It appears that I will be teaching creative writing again next semester at UNC. Even more thrillingly, it’s an intro class. I’m over the moon right now.

Enjoying: Christopher Salerno’s Whirligig. I had planned to wait until I met the author and buy a copy directly from him, but in the end, I could not hold out.

I’ve been quiet in this blog more often than not. In the past, blogging has always been sort of a healthy part of my thought process, but I’ve tapered off for a number of reasons.

The first is that I have been keeping busy. Normally that would mean a great deal of poetry-related posting, but I find that my recent poetic activities have not lent themselves to bloggish navel-gazing and have been quite productive. I have spent a great deal of time in blogs; they’re simply not the usual poetry blogs by the usual suspects. They talk almost exclusively about poetry. They’re delightful, though at times they’re also infuriating. I’ve also been working steadily in my spare time on Ellen C. Bush’s first book of poems, which is forthcoming this month from Bull City Press. I can’t even begin to articulate how proud I am that my press will be publishing this book, which I think is superlative work that should be read. I won’t get upset but I think you’re a giant dummy if you don’t read this book when it comes out later this month.

The second is that I’ve begun changing some habits. This isn’t anything major; I’ve just made a concerted effort to look at how I spend time and see if I feel that it’s effective. Yes, I’m falling into the cult of GTD and time management. It’s out of necessity, really. I’m out of the office more than ever for teaching, and even though leaving theater left some free hours between 11 PM - 2 AM on Fridays and Saturdays, I’ve felt as busy as ever. I have that wonderful feeling that I’m building something again, though this time it’s more personal than when we spent several years building a theater community. Blogging hasn’t been a big part of that, though. Oh well.

Some random observations:

– I went to see Jennifer Grotz read at UNC-G, the first of a bunch of readings I’ve been to in the past few weeks. I’m not sure how she does it, because there’s not a quantifiable trait that one can point to, but Jennifer Grotz is a really good reader. I was also lucky enough to spend a little time with her and Stuart Dischell after the reading. UNC-G students had better realize what kind of talent they have available to them– those two are simply fantastic.

– Paul Muldoon is a fantastic reader as well, and was about as gracious as anyone I’ve ever seen making a campus visit. He was very gracious with his time, making sure that he spoke with everyone who asked him to sign a book and spending time talking to them about whatever he could. When asked for observations on his reading, my students offered only this: “His accent was hot.” I could not disagree. I could have listened to him read for hours. It was wonderful.

– I have agreed to review some books, and have now picked up more new poetry than I know what to do with. One of the books, which I think came out a while ago and is no longer eligible for review, but which I snagged anyhow, is by Steve Kronen. I know this name. I feel like I should know it well. Yet, I cannot place it. Steve Kronen and I have crossed paths, somehow, somewhere, and Steve Kronen might not have been even remotely aware that it happened. But his name is lodged in my brain, and I need to do the digging necessary to find out why the name is familiar. It may be as simple as having read a poem in a magazine years ago that I really enjoyed. Or someone I know knows him well. I’m not sure. But my brain has not yet made the connection, and I cannot dislodge the urgent need to do so.

– A close friend expressed some concern that I might not finish at Warren Wilson. Let me say in a very public place: wild horses couldn’t keep me from finishing at WWC. There should be no further discussion on this topic. I love graduate school. Love it love it love it.

My right eye is swollen halfway shut, which is an improvement over yesterday, when it was completely swollen shut. While this has presented several inconveniences, not the least of which was some poor driving that should have, but thankfully didn’t, result in an accident, the experience has been one which I am trying to reflect upon in a positive way. Would poems look different if we each had only one eye? Don’t we need both eyes for depth perception, to continually measure two sets of input and draw one consistent picture from them?

Seeing is so fundamental to poetry that we must challenge ourselves sometimes to see differently.

This is no confabulation.